by Pu Songling
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Qin: A seven-stringed, fretless instrument, played by plucking it as it lies flat.
“And what’s your husband’s name?” Yang asked her.
“Yan Haiyu is my name,” the young man replied.
“This place is called the Island of the Immortals, three thousand li from Qiongzhou, and it hasn’t been my home for very long.”
Shiniang hurried inside and sent a maidservant out with refreshments to entertain Yang, featuring seafood and vegetable dishes that were both wonderfully aromatic and attractive, though Yang had no idea what they were called. When he’d finished eating, he was led to a promontory from whence he could see a garden in which there was a budding peach tree, which struck him as very odd.
“In summer, the weather here is never hot,” explained Yan, “while in winter, it’s never cold, so the flowers never stop blooming.”
With happy exuberance, Yang declared, “This truly is, then, a land of immortals. I have to go home and tell my parents so they can move here and be your neighbors.” Yan just smiled in response.
They went inside to the study, lit by bright can-delight, where Yang saw a qin lying on the table and asked whether he might listen to Yan play. Yan strummed the strings and adjusted the tuning pegs. Shiniang happened into the room just then, and Yan encouraged her, “Come, come! You can do a better job of playing for your nephew.”
Shiniang sat down at the table and asked Yang, “What would you like to hear?”
“I’m afraid I’ve never read Music for the Qin,” apologized Yang, “so I really don’t know what to request.”
“If you’d like, give me a topic and I’ll play something corresponding to it.”
With a laugh, he suggested, “‘The sea winds guiding a boat’—can you play something that fits that?”
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Li: A distance equal to 1/3 mile.
Music for the Qin: The qincao (琴操) was written by versatile scholar Cai Yong (133-92 C.E.).
“I can.” As she coaxed out sounds by pressing and plucking the strings, it was as if she was playing some piece written long ago, the tune bursting forth and leaping out; then it calmed, and it felt to Yang like he was lying in a boat, with what had been hurricane-force winds beginning to subside.
Yang gasped in wonder at the unique sensations and asked, “Can I learn how to play that?”
Shiniang gave him the qin so he could try to play a section of the piece, saying, “I can teach you how. What do you want to learn?”
“I’d like to learn ‘Controlling the Hurricane,’ but can you actually help me to remember it in just a short time? Please copy the song down first, so I can play it later.”
“This can’t be written down,” Shiniang told him, “I was just playing the notes as they came into my head.” Then she picked up another qin, checked its strings and handed it to Yang, telling him to try to imitate what she’d played.
Yang practiced late into the night till he could roughly produce the piece, and only then did Yan and Shiniang leave. Yang stared fixedly at the instrument as he concentrated, the light shining on it as he continued his playing; after a long time, he suddenly experienced an epiphany of understanding that made him feel so ebullient that he felt like leaping up and dancing for joy.
Raising his head, he unexpectedly found the maidservant standing there with a lantern, and in surprise, he remarked, “Are you still here and haven’t left yet?”
Smiling, she replied, “Tenth Aunt told me to wait until you fell asleep, then to shut the door and remove the light.” When he turned to look at her more closely, he noticed her sparkling eyes and found her very attractive.
Yang felt both aroused and nervous; the maidservant bowed her head and smiled. This made Yang feel even more enamored and tentative, so he rashly hugged her neck. “Don’t do that!” she cried. “It’s already four o’clock in the morning, and the master will be getting up—but if this is what you want, tomorrow night we can be together.”
The two embraced ardently till they heard Yan calling out, “Fendie.”
The maidservant blushed and shouted, “I’m going to get in trouble!” Then she hurried off.
Yang secretly followed her, to eavesdrop. Thus he heard Yan say, “I told you that she hasn’t severed her ties to the material world, but you wanted to keep her on as a servant. Now what do you think? She should be given three hundred lashes!”
“Since these longings have been provoked,” Shiniang conceded, “we can’t allow her to continue working here, so there’s no alternative but to send her away to my nephew.” Feeling quite ashamed and depressed, Yang returned to the study, put out the light and went to sleep.
The next morning, a boy servant came to wait upon him as he washed, but Yang didn’t see Fendie again. Apprehensive, he was afraid that he’d be censured and forced to leave. Before long, Yan and Shiniang came to see him, seeming no less friendly towards him, and wanted to check on his progress with the music.
Yang proceeded to play them a tune. “Even if it’s not yet perfect, you’ve still learned quite a few things,” praised Shiniang, “and with continued practice you can become truly excellent.” Yang implored Yan to play another example. Yan then taught him the song, “The Goddess Exiled to the Earth,” and though the fingering was very difficult, Yang practiced the piece for three days until he was able to play the song himself.
“You’ve gotten the jist of it,” Yan commented, “but you’ve still got to refine your technique. By improving your skill, you’ll be able to play a couple of songs on the qin with smoother tone.”
Yang began to feel quite homesick, so he told Shiniang, “My time here, with your help and encouragement, has made me very happy; but my family must be concerned about me. I’m three thousand li from home, and I need to know when I can return!”
“This is no problem,” Shiniang assured him. “Your boat is still available and I can help you with favorable winds. Given that you don’t yet have a wife, I’ve also sent Fendie ahead for you.” She presented the qin to him as a gift, then gave him some medicine, saying, “When you get home, administer this to your grandmother—besides curing her sickness, it’ll also extend her life.”
She accompanied him then to the seashore, where he boarded his boat. Once Yang began to look for the oars, Shiniang told him, “You won’t need them.” She proceeded to take off her skirt and make a sail from it to settle the matter. But Yang was also concerned that he’d be unable to find his way home, so she replied, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything but listen to the sail ripple.” Having finished connecting the sail, she climbed out of the boat.
Yang felt sad at parting, and just as he was wanting to express his gratitude to Shiniang, a south wind suddenly sprang up that quickly put a vast distance between the boat and the shore. He noticed that food supplies had already been placed onboard, though there was only enough there for a single day’s journey, which he felt was rather stingy of his hosts.
Though he was famished, he didn’t dare eat very much for fear of running out—however, after eating just one flat cake, the extraordinarily sweet, fragrant pastry made him feel entirely sated. There were still six or seven more, so he was careful to retain the remaining rarities since he no longer felt hungry.
Since he soon noticed that the sun was setting, he regretted that he hadn’t borrowed any candles from his host to pack onboard. In moments, he noticed some houses in the distance; on closer examination, he realized that he’d reached Qiongzhou. Yang was elated. As soon as he arrived on shore, he took down the skirt, wrapped up the remaining cakes in it, and returned home.
As he entered his gates, his family received him with joy and surprise since he’d already been gone for sixteen years, and he soon realized that he’d been in the presence of immortals. He saw that his elderly grandmother’s illness had left her more exhausted than ever; hence he took out Shiniang’s medicine and administered it, immediately curing her.
Everyone a
sked him about his strange experiences, so he recounted everything he’d observed. His grandmother tearfully declared, “Shiniang is your aunt.”
Years earlier, the grandmother had a daughter named Shiniang, who was born with the appearance of an immortal. She was then betrothed to a member of the Yan family. When the family’s son-in-law Yan was sixteen, he entered the mountains—but didn’t return from them. Shiniang waited for him until she was twenty, and then without falling ill, she suddenly died; she’d been buried already for thirty years.
Upon hearing this, the others doubted that Shiniang was really dead. Yang took out the skirt that she’d given him, and his grandmother confirmed that it was exactly like one she used to wear at home. Everyone then sampled the flat cakes that he’d brought back, which fed each of them for an entire day and significantly increased their individual vigor.
The grandmother ordered servants to examine Shiniang’s tomb, where they discovered that her coffin was completely empty.
Much earlier, Yang had been betrothed to a daughter in the Wu family, but hadn’t yet married her, and after his being gone for years without returning, she married someone else. They all believed what Shiniang had told Yang, hence he decided to wait for Fendie to arrive; but after more than a year without receiving any news of her, they began to discuss other options.
There was a wealthy xiucai in a nearby town who had a daughter named Hesheng, who was renowned far and wide for her beauty. By the time she turned sixteen, she still hadn’t been married, for three potential husbands had all died before the rituals could be performed. Yang arranged for a matchmaker to speak with the xiucai, and an auspicious day was selected for the wedding ceremony.
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Xiucai: A successful candidate in the imperial civil service examination at the county level.
When the bride entered the Yang family’s gates, they all witnessed her peerless beauty. But on further inspection, Yang realized it was Fendie. Shocked, he asked her about their past acquaintance, but she couldn’t remember anything about it.
It turned out that the day when Fendie was sent away coincided exactly with the birth of Hesheng. And whenever Yang would play the song “The Goddess Exiled to the Earth” on the qin, Hesheng would always look meditative, resting her chin on her hand, as if she understood something special about the song.
483. Li Tansi
Li Tansi, from Changshan, was a student of the Imperial Academy. In his village, an old woman, who could go into a trance and speak with spirits, told people, “Tonight, someone’s going to help me carry Li Tansi through the gates into Bojiazhuang in Zichuan, though his body’s so heavy that it’s practically going to crush me to death.”
At the time, Li was happily drinking with some guests, so everyone treated the old woman’s comments like they were ridiculous. But that night, without even falling ill, Li Tansi suddenly died.
The next morning, when people went to make inquiries in Bojiazhuang, they found that a family there had just given birth to a daughter.
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Changshan: A county in Zhejiang province.
Bojiazhuang in Zichuan: Part of modern Zibo, in Shandong province.
484. Jinse
Scholar Wang, who lived near the Yi River, had lived alone since he was quite young, his family’s only son. He was poor but honest; however, he also happened to be strikingly handsome. There was a wealthy old man named Lan, who was delighted by the very sight of Wang and wanted him to wed his daughter, offering to buy him a house as a betrothal gift and to allow him to manage his property.
Soon after they were married, old Lan died. The brothers of Wang’s wife scorned and despised Wang. His wife, who was particularly haughty and arrogant, often had servants take care of her husband; but while she enjoyed the most exquisite tidbits, whenever Wang appeared, they offered him the cheapest possible foodstuffs and gave him broken chopsticks to use. Wang endured it all patiently.
When he turned nineteen, he went to take the imperial civil service examinations, but proved unsuccessful. As he returned to his home prefecture, he discovered that his wife wasn’t at home, but there was a pot on the fire containing mutton stew, so he came near to taste it. At that point, his wife entered, and without saying anything, she left with the pot.
Feeling utterly humiliated, Wang threw his chopsticks on the ground and cried, “It’d be better to die than to continue putting up with this!” His wife hatefully asked him when he was going to die, then searched for a large rope to give him so he could hang himself. In anger, Wang threw a bowl of soup at her, splashing it all over her face. Restraining his fury, he stormed out of the room, then began thinking how much better it might actually be just to end it all, so he decided to find a dark ravine somewhere and hang himself.
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Yi River: A tributary of the Luo River, in Henan province.
Upon arriving at a thicket of trees and choosing a branch to which he could tie his sash, Wang suddenly caught a brief glimpse of a cloth skirt through a gap in the face of a nearby cliff; in a flash, a young woman came out, took one look at Wang, then instantly went back, like a momentary shadow that subsequently vanished, with the cliff face also erased of all signs of the former crevices. Wang was certain that ghosts were at work there; but he still wanted to die, which is why he wasn’t frightened at all, though he decided to untie the sash and sit on the ground to watch what would happen next.
Shortly thereafter, she poked half her face out, took a brief peek at Wang, then drew back inside. He figured that the young woman must be some kind of ghost, so he was sure that he’d be able to achieve his intention of dying.
Accordingly, he rapped on the stone face of the cliff, calling out, “Since there’s a way for you to enter here, I hope you’ll show it to me! I’m not going to beg you for my life, but for my death instead.” A long time passed without any sound coming from inside. Wang then repeated his remarks.
From within the cliff, a voice said, “If you withdraw your request to die, you can come in tonight.” The sound of her voice was crystal clear, but resonated through the rock like a bee’s buzzing.
“Okay,” Wang answered her. Then he walked around, waiting for night to fall. Before long, the stars came out and suddenly a government office appeared on the cliff face as a pair of doors quietly opened into it. Wang then entered and began climbing up some stairs.
After he’d taken several steps, he came to where water was gushing forth and the air was warm from hot springs. Testing the water with his hand, he found it to be boiling hot; he couldn’t tell how deep it was. He figured that the spirit was simply showing him a way to kill himself, so he jumped into the water.
The heat penetrated his clothing and his skin hurt like he was being cooked into a congee, but fortunately he remained afloat without sinking. Though he kept swimming there for a long time, the heat was always bearable, and finally he was able to grab a handhold, making it possible for him to climb up the south side of the cliff since his body luckily hadn’t been scalded by the water.
When he reached a plateau, he saw in the distance that there were lights shining inside a large house, so he hurried off towards it. A vicious dog came out as Wang arrived, nipping at his robe and tearing at his leggings. He grabbed a rock and threw it, driving the beast back a bit.
Then a whole pack of dogs started barking at him, each of them the size of a calf. As he rushed away from the danger they posed, the maidservant came out of the house and chided him, “Didn’t you come here because you wanted to die? The mistress of our household pities you for being poverty-stricken, so she sent me to bring you inside where life is happy and peaceful and you’ll face no more adversity.” Carrying a lantern, she led the way inside.
When she passed through the open door, the lantern light dimmed and disappeared. As she entered the house, bright light radiated through its windows, and she called out to Wang, “Once you come in, I can leave.”
Wang looked all around as he went in, d
iscovering that he’d just entered his own house. He quickly ran back outside. There he found an old woman accompanying his wife, who exclaimed, “I’ve been searching all day for you, so now where do you think you’re going!” She turned then and dragged him inside with her.
His wife wrapped her soup burn with a handkerchief, then stood up to mock him, remarking, “We’ve been husband and wife for years, so how could you have failed to achieve enough success to honor to me? I admit my guilt. You should’ve been reproached, rather than injured, yet now you’ve truly wounded me, so just cool off a bit.”
Then from beside a bed she picked up two large pieces of gold to give Wang, and told him, “From now on, you decide on how to arrange for all our clothing and food, okay?”
Wang didn’t say a word, but simply flung the gold out the door and ran away, until he reached the valley where he knocked at the gate of the government office. He continued wandering the countryside until he spotted the maidservant moving uncertainly, carrying the lantern as she receded into the distance. Wang ran after her, yelling as he did so, till the lantern finally stopped moving.
Once he’d caught up with her, the maidservant told him, “Now you come back again, a real waste of my lady’s good intentions.”
“I wanted to die,” Wang replied, “so I didn’t count on her trying to persuade me to live. Your lady has an enormous home, and she must be in need of workers. I’d like to be of service to her, since living really isn’t going to make me happy.”
“How wrong it is to think that a happy death is better than a painful life!” cried the maidservant. “The work in our household includes washing the clothes, cleaning out the toilets, feeding the dogs, and carrying the dead to burial; if the manual labor you perform isn’t adequate, then you’ll have your ear, nose, elbow, or foot cut off. You think you can handle all that?”
“Yes, I can,” asserted Wang. As she turned to enter the estate’s gates, Wang remarked, “All those duties you mentioned, I can carry out. But just now, you said they included carting off corpses—where are all the bodies coming from?”